


Burdens of Purpose

by Comtesse



Series: Eir's Mercy [1]
Category: Loki - Fandom, Norse Religion & Lore, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Asgard, Asgardian Loki, Eir - Freeform, Empathy, F/M, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jotunn | Frost Giant, Jötunheimr | Jotunheim, Miðgarðr | Midgard, Romance, Superheroes, Ásgarðr | Asgard (realm)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-12-10
Updated: 2014-04-17
Packaged: 2018-01-04 05:48:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 10,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1077283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Comtesse/pseuds/Comtesse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"You were born a king as Laufey's son, and raised King Odinson, but not a king of Asgard." She rose to her toes and closed the distance between them. "I am sorry you suffer." - What started as a gift for empathy and healing magic blossomed into one of the most talented healers in the Nine Realms. Having learned from Frigga on Asgard and served Freyja in wars on Vanaheim, Eir is sent to Midgard to put her skills to the test. However, neither Asgard nor Vanaheim had prepared her for facing off against an old flame. How long can she stand her ground before the Jotun's storm swallows her whole?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Word of War

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I only own my OCs. Everything else is owned by Marvel, Paramount, etc. Eir, my main OC, is heavily based upon the Eir of Norse mythology.

Sessrumir was beautiful in its own right. The capital of Vanaheim and the seat of Queen Freyja, the entire city was nearly as ornate as Odin's. Lush, green pastures nested in valleys, rivers ran deep and wide around the city, and the people had been at peace for the last fifty years. Perhaps Eir's hand had tilted the war in that direction, but neither Freyja nor Odr would say for certain.

For centuries the Vanir had been at war - with one another, with neighboring cities, and even other worlds (less often, but more viciously than the longer wars with their brothers) - the entire realm had become a mess. Odr grew restless over the years, unable to calm his people.

Thankfully that time had ended, bringing peace of mind to the ruling family and their flock. Eir, handmaiden of Frigga and emissary to Vanaheim, had been a valuable asset in the wars as well as the peace. On the battlefield, her talent for healing magic and protective spells had no equal. She was well-equipped for formulating peace treaties and meeting with vessels of the opposing armies. During the peace, she tended to Freyja, acted as a counselor to all who came looking, and a healer of the sick. It was a role she was more than comfortable filling.

Her copper heels clicked on the gilded tiles as she made her way to the throne room, vigilant Sven at her side. The feline beast's shoulder was as high as her own. Powerful legs and massive paws made him a sturdy mount, as well as a force not to be trifled with in battle. Here, the predator seemed as amiable as a kitten. This was his home. He stiffened as the pair crossed the threshold into the throne room, feeling the tension in his mistress' hand as her fingers gripped his ruff.

The room was as wide as it was tall (roughly seven ropes), walls covered with gold etchings and priceless tapestries. Outside the windows to her right, being the only windows, Eir saw the river bordering the eastern wall of the keep. The frenzied aura that rolled off Odr in waves often didn't bother her, but something had even persistently-calm Freyja unsettled. A headache began to form behind the healer's eyes. Such was part of her gift, she supposed, and a useful talent it was - this being able to pick up on the emotions and ailments of those around her. Still, it had its drawbacks.

"Lady Eir, glad to see our summons reached you quickly," Odr boomed across the room. The corners of his lips were upturned, as though in an attempt to smile. The only impression it gave the comparably young witch was that he had smelled month-old milk.

When she reached the dais, Eir curtsied before lifting her face to the Lord and Lady. "Had anyone but Ari carried it, I would have received it hours earlier." The jab at the favored page did nothing to lighten the mood. A glance at Sven eased a few of her nerves. He was a force not to be tested, an observation that made her feel safe when bad news lingered in the air, yet unsaid. "May I ask why I was called upon?"

Freyja stood, stepping down from her throne towards her emissary and companion for the last century-and-a-half. "Frigga summoned you back to Asgard. She did not say why, but Hulda claims it is urgent."

_Hulda?_

Movement to her left pulled Eir's attention away from the beautiful queen of the Vanir. A pale figure stood at the foot of the dais. Had her blonde hair been pulled back any tighter, the woman's face may have split. Eir remembered the courier-and-guide. Hulda was a sort of go-between for Vanaheim and Asgard, carrying messages and, on rare occasion, people between the two worlds. The healer nodded once to the newcomer, then regarded Freyja. "You will be well during my absence?" Her eyes searched the queen's face, not wanting to leave without assurance the people she had spent so much time with would remain at peace. Rather, she didn't wish to leave Vanaheim at all. However, if Frigga called, she was bound to answer. And perhaps she  _was_  a bit eager to return home.

A laugh touched Queen Freyja's warm brown eyes, crow's feet deepening just a bit. "We survived well before you, and we will be well after." A slender hand rested on her companion's shoulder, squeezing gently. "Go home. I am sure your queen misses you."

The messenger closed with the pair, her watchful presence an aggravating buzzing in Eir's head. "If we may make our leave, now," she pushed. "I am to return posthaste."

Sven rubbed his head against his mistress' shoulder. His throat rumbled with what, coming from a mountain cat, passed for a purr. They had been inseparable soon after her arrival in Vanaheim. Being apart was going to feel like walking without a leg. Eir faced him, taking his enormous head in her hands. "I'll come back. Promises." With a smile, she planted a kiss on his nose.

"Nonsense," Odr chortled. "He is useless to us. Your silly, healing, womanly ways have broken him of his vitality."

Freyja shot him a look over her shoulder, grinning with the knowledge he was trying to be humorous. "He is right, to a degree. Take him. I would imagine Asgard would be a nice change of scenery."

Hulda cleared her throat. Loudly.

"Very well," Eir conceded. "Let us go, then. I have missed my home a great deal."

With that, Freyja hugged her attendant and returned to her seat. Hulda raised a staff Eir hadn't noticed, the dulled steel tip glowing with a blue light. Each holding onto another - Hulda and Eir by hands, Eir and Sven by hand and ruff - the messenger tapped the butt of her staff on the tile floor. Blue light enveloped the three; Eir's stomach contents jostled about as though she had been riding a bilgesnipe.

* * *

When she opened her eyes, Eir was in the courtyard of Odinheim, the giant castle that housed the royal family of Asgard. How long had it been since she'd been home? The better part of two centuries, for sure. The scent of the flowers strewn throughout the courtyard brought back many memories of sitting with Frigga, learning to hone her gift and expand her talents. Despite Hulda's thorny presence, Eir eased into the feeling of being home for the first time in far too long. Many of her friends had probably grown without her, changing as the years rolled by. It was a sad thought, that those close to her in her younger days may have forgotten her altogether, but it was something she had accepted before she left.

They reached the great hall, and Frigga greeted her once-and-always handmaiden, beaming with arms outstretched. "Eir! It is so good to see you!" The pair embraced in a tight hug, both laughing with ease.

It diminished the nervousness in Eir's stomach, but not to the point it was gone. She was acutely aware of Odin's eyes on them. There was a heavy weight on his mind that subtly worried the healer.

"How have you been, my dear?" Frigga asked, holding her at arms' length. "Word is that you have grown during your time in Vanaheim."

Eir smiled faintly, bowing her head. "I have, though that is only good in so many ways, my queen." Which was true. Her barriers were harder to penetrate than before. Healing no longer took such a heavy toll on neither her body nor spirit. She could raise the dead. However, her barriers needed constant maintaining. Her empathy had no off switch, leaving her in a constant - normally tolerable - state of physical and emotional flux as everyone within three leagues changed. Most of the time, such changes faded into background noise until Eir decided to focus on one particular point, much as Heimdall was capable of. Sometimes it wasn't so easy.

She shuddered at the thought of granting life back to the dead. They never came back quite the same. The more the threads of life had frayed, the more twisted they were upon breathing again.

"Who is this intimidating fellow?"

Eir turned at the sound of a new voice, furrowing her brow. The face was familiar, glassy blue eyes and blonde hair falling messily to the man's broad shoulders. He laughed, thunderous footsteps echoing off the walls. Eir's head tilted to the side as she watched him, sure she had seen his face before. "Thor?"

"Aye." He pulled her against him, popping the joints in her back as he lifted her from the ground. "It has been too long, friend. How was Vanaheim?"

She laughed, hugging him back until she was placed back on the floor. "Vanaheim is faring well these days, and I hope it continues to do so while I am away." Fondly, her hand found the side of Sven's neck, scratching the sweet spot just behind his jaw. "This is Sven, a gift from Freyja." The cat snorted and pressed his head against her shoulder. Eir chuckled. "And my most faithful companion for the last one hundred fifty years. Sven, this is my queen, Frigga, King Odin, and his son Prince Thor." Sven flared his nostrils at each, swishing his tail contentedly.

"He is very handsome. A prized gift indeed." Frigga didn't need to stroke the cat's ego as far as Eir was concerned. It was humorous, though, to see the cat nuzzle the queen, pleased with the praise.

Odin lifted his head, weary of waiting. "I have missed you as well, young witch, but there are more pressing matters at hand than exchanging pleasantries." Frigga returned to her husband's side, Eir and Thor standing at attention. "Heimdall has seen Loki on Midgard. Your duty is to retrieve him so that he may face judgment for his crimes."

Eir remembered Loki well, the younger prince being more quiet and interested in books rather than battle. She had enjoyed his company as a child, rarely though they mingled for most of their friendship. Close to her adulthood, they had grown much closer, and they practiced magic together often. Had she not left, the prince very well may have courted her - or her him. That he would commit one crime, let alone multiple, seemed farfetched.

She peered up with a start. "I received word Loki died some time ago."

"He lives." Odin sighed, shifting in his gilded seat. "That is why you were summoned."

The room went still, uncomfortable. "Surely I would celebrate, given word that he has not passed on, but what could he have done that would require my return to Asgard?"

"Not only what he  _has_  done, but what he is planning. You were not brought here to remain, but to go with Thor to Midgard. He has made a deal with Thanos and the Chitauri, creatures not found in the nine realms. The Midgardians have found the Tesseract, and Loki plans to use it to unleash the Chitauri upon Earth." He paused, and Eir sorted him out from the rest of the fuzz in her head.

 _He is worried_ , she observed.  _Angry._  Her headache was beginning to worsen as the king spoke.

"Heimdall suspects there will be much bloodshed. Bring him back with the Tesseract as quickly as possible." He looked directly at Eir, stone-faced as always. "Keep the blood to a minimum. There is no need for war with the Midgardians; the Chitauri are enough of a threat on their own. I will get you as close as I can, but Heimdall tells me they are taking him by airship." His eyes were back on his son. "Find him. Bring him home."

Thor tilted his head down, solemn. "Yes, father."

"As you command, my lord." Eir bowed deeply.

Odin gathered what strength he could, taking a deep breath. As he did, Frigga added as a note, "We will take care of your Sven until you return."

This caught Eir's attention. "What? But, my lady, I ne-"

Magic crashed into her like a tidal wave, pushing the air out of her lungs. Weightlessness and surprise mixed into nausea as she panicked. Sven had never left her side for long, and never at all in battle. If this was to get bloody, Eir was going in without a weapon. Sure, her barriers were some of the strongest of Vanaheim, but Eir didn't  _fight._  Such was her job, though.  _Prevent_  bloodshed. Eir waited, trying to calm her stomach before the contents were lost in transport. She would have to make do without him. Fear sprouted in the back of her head. Hopefully war was not as close to the horizon as Heimdall thought.


	2. Face Off

When they landed on Midgard, Eir's knees gave way beneath her. While she was grateful Thor did not suffer discomfort, it aggravated her that she did not take it as well as him. They had landed in some sort of city, the likes of which she had never seen in any of her travels - extensive though such travels had been as an emissary and companion - between four of the Nine Realms. The buildings were made of relatively smooth stone. Lights gleamed from poles and windows. The stars... She looked up, suppressing a whimper at the sky. Home had come and gone so swiftly, and her heart ached with the inability to feel Sven.

The thrum of pain was a sudden, inescapable chorus in her ears, loud as an orchestra playing at full volume in the great halls of keeps. Nearby, people were broken. Fear writhed like a snake in her stomach. Someone was dead. Multiple someones. Bile crept up the back of her throat the instant before she threw up. If there was any way to do so gracefully, Eir missed it by a long shot. "I would wager he is here," she murmured as she rose to her feet and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. Thor held out an arm to steady her, the pair looking out over the top of the building they had landed on. Indeed there was a crowd of people below, but Loki was nowhere in sight. Not that she could tell, anyway. The witch hadn't laid eyes on him in so long, he could have been standing before her and she'd never have known.

"Are there any wounded," he asked, scanning the crowd with little hope.

She concentrated, searching each person below with practiced ease. "No," she muttered, eyes half closed as each mortal's condition passed through her mind. "No, those that were wounded must have been killed. Everyone below is either scared or in shock." Her magic did nothing for emotional trauma. Not the quick and dirty magic she used to heal flesh, anyway. Healing any non-physical damage was a much more involved task than that. More involved than she had time for.

"Heimdall said they would be in the sky." Hammer whirling in the air, Thor scrutinized the clouds for light. After a moment he saw two points hovering in the sky like misplaced stars. They were faint, but there. "Can you fly?"

A brief nod. "It is taxing, but I can keep up for a short while."

"Good. Follow me." As he took off toward the lights, a vacuum of air whipped about her long, red hair and earthly-toned dress.

Under her breath, she whispered a few phrases in the ancient tongue of Freyja's people. It was the only way she knew of to get around quickly, and after Sven's appearance in her life Eir used it with incredible rarity. Green wisps of smoky light gathered at her wrists and ankles; bracers and greaves appeared to sprout small wings. They were difficult to maintain, and had no real purpose other than as a manifestation of her will to fly, but it worked. Hopefully the need for flight would be no longer than her will could hold out.

Another whispered phrase and she took off as quickly as Thor had. His red cape was easy to follow. Easier still were the lights on the aircraft he was aimed for. Wind pulled her skin taught against her face, hair trailing furiously behind her as she grew closer. The further she climbed from the Midgardians below, the more her stomach settled - almost. The two trips before were very unpleasant, and this wasn't better by much, but it was preferable to being jostled around like a doll.

Thankfully the flight was short. Thor forced his way into the metal craft and stole his brother away while Eir waited below the hatch. After acquiring the rogue Asgardian, they landed on a rocky cliff, Loki much more roughly than his captors. As he groaned in pain, arms on his stomach, Eir regarded him and tried to catch her breath. He indeed looked familiar: a shock of black hair that contrasted his pale skin, thin features that looked as sharp and fragile as glass. She didn't recognize the Midgardian clothes that adorned him, although they complimented him well. The skin beneath his eyes was dark; he hadn't slept in a very long time. Something about him was wounded, cracked, and angry. Offhandedly, she was grateful of the distance from civilization. The only people within her influence were the princes, bringing her mental fuzz to almost nothing.

Well, aside from Loki's jarred and aching body. Despite his discomfort, the man seemed to be chuckling under his breath.

Thor stepped closer, bristling. "Where is the Tesseract?"

His arms moved to his chest, head laid back on the ground. A smile crossed his face. "I missed you, too."

"Do I look to be in a gaming mood?"

Peering up, Loki's grin widened. "You should thank me. With the Bifrost gone, how much dark energy did the Allfather have to muster to conjure you here?" Dark brows lifted, surprised. "And he sent a pet with you! How endearing. All for your precious earth."

"My name is Eir, and I am no pet," she muttered under her breath. Neither one seemed to hear her. If they did, it was not betrayed by their faces.

As his brother spat the words, Thor grabbed him roughly once more, jerking him to his feet. Mjolnir sat discarded on the earth like a dog waiting for its master to call. The younger man was held in place by the shoulder and back of the neck. "I thought you dead," Thor growled lowly.

"Did you mourn?" Loki's voice, while not lifeless, seemed detached. Something about that detachment, however, was false to the healer's ears.

"We all did. Our father-"

Loki held up a finger. " _Your_  father."

Thor released him, barely containing his temper. Even with Eir's calming effect, an aura she exuded simply as part of what she was, the blonde man growled lowly.

"He did tell you my true parentage, did he not?" Loki walked down a shallow slope in the cliff, right hand braced against his back. He caught the mild confusion on Eir's face and laughed even more. "I am of Jotunheim, Laufey's blood." The glance he cast at Thor was spiteful, resigned, and proud. "No wonder you were the favored son."

Eir took a few tentative steps forward, trying to make sense of what she felt versus what she saw. The more the pair spoke, the more their tempers stretched towards the surface: Thor's an explosive burst of energy, devastating, but over quickly; Loki's a slow, steady burn, seething with heat of a sun. Even outside of his anger, though, Loki's emotions were constantly changing: resignation, rage, spite, pride, sadness, she couldn't pin him. Yes, her stomach reeled at the nauseous concoction inside Loki. "What should it matter?" Her voice grew stronger as she spoke. "We were all raised together. I watched you two play, fight, dine as brothers. Heritage has little to do with family."

Much like a cat lashing out, Loki turned on her. "Who are you to speak of our childhood? You vanished in favor of Vanaheim. After Odin sent you off, you had nothing to do with Asgard!" So he had heard her speak, and he did remember her. "Were you maintaining your chastity while I lurked beneath the shade of Thor's greatness? Were you pleasing Freyja while I was tossed into an abyss? I who was and should be king."

Had the elder son not spoken first, Eir would have found herself dangerously close to snapping at the prince. "So you take the world I love as recompense for your imagined slights?" Thor stepped closer to his brother, following him down the slope. "No. The earth is under my protection, Loki."

That was news. Eir had never thought the commander of storms had anything to do with Earth, let alone vowed to protect it. Though there was that disturbance a year ago...

"And you're doing a marvelous job of that." Loki's brows drew down. "The humans slaughter each other in droves while you idly fret. I mean to rule them. And why should I not?"

"You think yourself above them?"

"Well, yes." As though such a thing was obvious.

"Then you miss the truth of ruling, brother. The throne would suit you ill."

Baring his teeth in a snarl, Loki thumped his fist against Thor's chest and pushed him aside. As he stomped past Eir, he spat at her feet. The rage smoldering in his chest grew brighter, hotter. "I've seen worlds you've never known about! I have grown,  _Odinson_ , in my exile! I've seen the true power of the Tesseract, and when I wield it-"

"Who showed you this power? Who controls the would-be king?"

"I  _am_  a king!"

"Not here!" Again Thor grabbed his brother, shaking him as he spoke. "You give up the Tesseract! You give up this poisonous dream!" He paused, gazing into his brother's eyes.

The longer this drew on, the more Eir realized she had grown apart from her homeworld. Those boys, who had warred with one another, playfully as children, were no more. Her heart cracked, and she suddenly longed to be back in Odinheim, hot tea beside her as she studied her magic. "Come home," she pleaded. Eir crossed over to the warring men, placing a hand on each of their shoulders. The connection was like lightning in her head, bright flashes of light and sparks playing across her fingers. Loki's wrath retreated a bit, revealing damage she hadn't seen before.

_Pain. Heart-wrenching pain. Homelessness. Longing for that which cannot be obtained._ Her hand tightened on Loki's shoulder before removing it. "Let us go home. Stop this mess and come back to Asgard with us."

Loki cracked a smile, but there was no life to it. "I don't have it." Thor pushed his brother away, summoning his hammer. "You need the cube to bring me home, but I've sent it off I know not where."

Eir shuddered, stepping back. "Someone approaches," she whispered. They were coming in fast. She tried to focus, but the feedback from the Asgardians was too loud to sort it out. The only thing she found from this new source was confidence - resounding confidence. The witch glanced to her left, suddenly aware that the presence was hurtling towards them faster than she believed Midgardians capable of. "Thor! Get-"

Whatever the thing was, it slammed into the blonde rock of a man and knocked him off the cliff to the trees below. She ran to the edge, peering down. It was harder to see in the dark than she'd have liked, but the bright red they wore made them easier to track. "Thor!" she called down, hands cupped around her mouth. If he heard her, he didn't show it.

Loki crept up beside her, smoky blue-green eyes glimmering as he watched the pair below. While Eir was worried for her old friend's welfare, he was amused to watch the fight. One moment Thor called down lightning, the next his opponent shot a beam of light and force back at him. Trees fell left and right, birds taking wing to escape. Mjolnir glanced off the metal man's body. The stranger pushed Thor back, only for him to get back up.

"Do not fret, witchling," Loki purred at her. The chuckle that followed was a little mad and a little genuine. Idly he wondered how long it had been since that pet name had rolled off his tongue. Bits of gravel fell over the edge as he shifted, grinning. "Watch the fun."

Her heart skipped a beat as she watched the pair take off into the sky, past the clouds. "I cannot." Green eyes searched the sky; she instinctively reached out for the elder prince. She could feel him, easily sorting him out from the few others in the area, and he wasn't hurt too badly. That didn't stop her from worrying.

He rolled onto his back, hands behind his head. "Your empathy rules you. Makes you soft." He could rule her just as easily if he played his cards right. A healer was a useful asset.

"My empathy has helped hundreds, perhaps more," she growled. It wasn't long before they came crashing back down to the earth, snapping trees like toothpicks. This may not have been a large scale battle, but there hadn't been even one small fight where Sven wasn't beside her, a rock to keep her steady. Was his absence why she suddenly felt so much: the trees splintering, animals running in fear, the bruise forming on the newcomer's forehead?  _Keep the bloodshed to a minimum._ She stood, dusting herself off. "I cannot watch violence and do nothing." Gathering a few strands of courage, Eir took a breath and jumped down the cliff-side.

Her knees took the landing relatively well, though her dress had caught something on the way down. The beautiful fabric, however, wasn't her first concern. She looked up to see the red man flying towards Thor, fire burning from his palms and feet. Eir raised her hand, glaring at the metal man. "Létta!" she commanded with a voice more powerful than should have come from such a small woman. A translucent, light green barrier formed between the two just as the Asgardian was about to be struck. Her body shook upon impact; regardless of the dull pain blossoming in her head, her concentration didn't waver an inch, and the wall held strong. As the stranger rose to his feet, Eir closed with him. "What is the meaning of this?" Absently, she noticed the breeze billowing out the skirt of her dress was rather cold.

"Eir, this is not your fight." Thor thumbed blood from his lip. He was thoroughly ignored.

The golden mask retracted, unveiling the rather handsome face of a man in the crimson armor. "This your cousin, Juliet?"

"We are not family," she said, eyeing him warily. "But touch him again and you will regret it." Magic curled around her fingers in green wisps of smoke.

"Ah," he nodded. "Rosaline, then."

"That's enough!" Behind her, a man stood in a mostly-blue uniform, a mask secured over the top of his face. He dropped to the ground from a fractured tree. "Now I don't know what you plan on doing here-"

Thor growled, pointing his hammer. "I've come here to put an end to Loki's schemes."

"Then prove it. Put that hammer down." This man was just as sure of himself as the one in the red suit, but Eir liked him more. Unlike the first, this one seemed to show a bit of forethought.

"Uh, yeah no. Bad call. He loves his ham-."

Mjolnir pounded against the red man's chest, sending him flying back into a tree. "You want me to put the hammer down?!"

Eir snarled, taking on Thor's anger as her own. Magic was a force of will, heavily influenced by emotion. Just like love, wrath was very powerful and easy to mold into magic. "Létta!" This barrier slammed against him, pushing the brute of an Asgardian back into an old tree. She waited for him to regain his feet before speaking. "Logn, Thor. They are not our enemy. However-" She turned, glaring at the other men with as much menace as a healer could muster. How unfortunate she was bluffing, scared witless. "Continue this mindless brawling and I will treat all of you as dogs to be put down."

"And just what can you do?" The man in the suit was back on his feet, creeping forwards.

Her eyes met his. "A lot of things. Now, if we are all done here...?" Her sentence trailed off as she regarded each man in turn. None said a word. They merely composed themselves and began walking.

* * *

It wasn't until they were on the airship that Eir realized there was a rather long cut in her dress where a stone or branch had caught it. After introductions and everyone decided to put down their weapons - though certainly not their guards - an agent had lent her some Midgardian clothes to wear. She supposed such attire was comfortable. It was just so very... Different. The blue slacks of heavy fabric were somewhat loose, and the legs needed to be rolled up. The black shirt was cotton and thin, but covered her well enough that Steve did not radiate discomfort while looking at her. (Apparently Midgardian warriors were more prudish than those on Asgard or Vanaheim.) All in all, it was nice to be out of formal attire poorly suited for her time on Midgard.

Her bare feet - how good it felt to be free of those heels! - were silent on the tile floor, but somehow Loki still heard her. He beamed down at her from his chamber, arms spread wide. "Ah, witchling. I am not surprised you are the first to visit."

"I am not here to surprise you." She stood against the railing, watching him closely. He was a building storm waiting to strike. But there was so much more she could see. Not see, per se, but sense. "Nor am I here to visit."

"Then why grace me with your presence at all?" His arms dropped, limp at his sides. "After silence for so long, why come snuffling to my chamber now?"

Why, indeed? She had asked herself that on the way here, unable to rationalize her whim to find his cell. Part of it was, for certain, that she wanted to thoroughly look at him, to see if her old flame was still in there at all. Loki had always been reclusive, but even before they had become particularly close Loki was a good person. Biting her lip, Eir realized her chest was aching, throbbing in time with her skull. She had missed him. She longed for his flesh to touch hers again, to hold him in her arms and be at peace. "You speak as though I had a choice about my departure."

"You control your actions, witchling. Not Odin nor Frigga." He began to pace.

She shook her head, running a hand along the railing. "Why do you not call me by my name?"

Loki stopped mid-step, grinned, and started again. "Does it bother you?"

"No," she lied. "But something about it bothers you."

And it did. The energy behind the name had mutated from affectionate to sickly-sweet, as though he was cutting himself on a blade as much as he hoped to be cutting her. The prince clenched his jaw, glaring at her through the thick glass. "Leave me, wretch." As he said it, he turned his back to her and faced the camera.

His anger and hurt assaulted her like the scent of corpse flowers, tightening her throat. She sighed and bowed her head. "As you wish."


	3. Bonding with Bilgesnipe

"As soon as Loki took the doctor, we moved Jane Foster. We've got an excellent observatory in Tromsø." The man sitting at the computer looked back at Thor, a smile on his face. "She was asked to consult there very suddenly yesterday. Handsome fee. Private plane. Very remote." He paused, casting a glance at Eir. "She'll be safe." The more this man spoke, the more she liked him. He was calm, efficient, and willful. There was a certainty about him that was comforting. The sky could have been falling and Phil would not have batted an eye. He was the only gentle soul on the entire craft, it seemed.

She stood close to Thor, anchoring herself to him in Sven's absence. The woman on the screen was all auburn hair and intelligent eyes. "Your Jane is beautiful," Eir murmured to him. She traced the image briefly and furrowed her brow. _She aches for him, yet._ The healer shook her head, ridding herself of a woman buried in books searching for a way to the stars. Eir's purpose was not to get lost in those around her.

"She is, thank you." Thor gazed around at the screens though saw no meaning in their contents. "It's no accident, Loki taking Erik Selvig. I dread what he plans for him once he's done. Erik's a good man."

"He talks about you a lot." Coulson stood, having sat for far too long. "You changed his life. You changed a lot of things around here." He started to walk, and the Asgardians followed.

Something shifted as Thor thought about that sentiment. "Things were better as they were." There it was, remorse that crept into Thor's shoulders and showed in his voice. Eir was mildly grateful she could not see his face. "We pretend on Asgard we're more advanced, but we come here battling like bilgesnipe."

Coulson stopped, tilting his head. "Like what?"

"Bilgesnipe. You know, huge, scaly, big antlers? You don't have those?"

"Don't think so."

Eir chuckled, placing a hand on the human's shoulder. Immediately his calm flooded over her, nearly silencing the endless emotional and physical 'noise' that had been assaulting her since arriving on the ship. Her grip hardened, hoping the calm would stay. "Be grateful," she advised. "They are abhorrent beasts that will crush everything they cross." For a moment the peace and self-assurance lingered after she removed her hand. Then as soon as someone came to the bridge, her unease returned with vengeance.

Unable to contain her curiosity as it soured into mild agitation, she turned to look at the newcomer; Thor and Phil were thoroughly forgotten. He was standing on the stairs leading to the overlook. Dark skin only amplified the predatory appearance his black clothes gave him. The eye patch had a similar, albeit more mild effect when compared to the scars it didn't quite hide. He wasn't the only source of passionate retribution on the craft, but his penchant for it seemed to howl the loudest to her senses. "The war hasn't started yet," he stated as he began to walk closer. His hands were clasped behind his back, giving the illusion of ease where he was noticeably tense. "Do you think you could make Loki tell us where the Tesseract is?"

Thor didn't grant Fury more than a passing glance, preferring to stare out the giant windows. "I do not know. Loki's mind is far afield. It's not just power he craves. It's vengeance - upon me. There is no pain would prise his need from him."

"A lot of guys think that, until the pain starts."

Eir stepped forward, clearing her throat. Too long had Fury ignored her presence - he had not so much as asked her name when she first saw him in the docking bay. Then again, she had no established history on Earth as the others did. Compared to Thor, she must have seemed as useful as a kit on this ship. "No pain will come to him. Not so long as I am here."

He looked at her, though didn't turn his body from Thor. "Then you may have to take a leave of absence, Madame."

"No."

That caught his attention. He fully faced her, giving her the judgmental once-over veteran warriors often gave their newest students. "Say that again."

He was daring her, hard gaze boring into hers. She took another step closer, trying to wrap herself in confidence she hadn't felt since landing on Midgard. Not confidence of her own, at any rate. Silence lingered between them, neither blinking. Eir stood her ground, despite being greatly shorter than he.

Thor watched, bemused. Eir had never been the type for conflict from what he remembered. No, she made it a habit to shy from violence and confrontation. It was interesting to see her change.

"No." It was said slowly, clearly. Something struck her, then; something vague and smelling of sulfur. She reached out with her mind, groping for the obsidian facade that was Director Fury. "What is it you're hiding? Why do you resonate with so many discordant sounds that don't match the orchestra you're trying to play?"

Fury squared his shoulders, motioning to one of his agents. "Hill, escort Thor's friend to her chambers."

"My name is Eir," she said pointedly. "It would do you well to remember it."

"I'll keep that in mind."

Agent Hill lightly touched the woman's shoulder. "Come with me, miss."

_Children, three of them, young. Husband, loved and protected. Resolute, composed._  Eir's shoulders relaxed. This 'Hill' felt similar to Coulson in her dogged control. Whatever lay underneath the facade - if it was a facade - was well hidden. As they walked away, the harshness that sparked around Fury faded into the rest of the background noise.

"She really one of yours," Fury asked as they watched the women leave.

"Yes."

"Seems pretty harmless for an Asgardian."

Thor laughed, a smirk playing at his lips. "She is an empath, much the same way a lion is a housecat." He faced the window once again, watching the clouds that veiled the world below.

The leader's forehead creased as he frowned. "And what exactly does that mean?"

"Every emotion, every ache and pain around her, she can feel within herself. It makes her a magnificent healer from what I've heard." Silence drew out between the pair as they watched the sky, an uncomfortable thing that made the Asgardian's skin itch.

"Anything else?"

Fury was desperate to find a way into the wayward prince. That much was obvious. What Thor didn't know was how much of what he knew really was Fury's business. Finally he scratched the back of his neck, sighing. "There is something of a two-edged sword about her. Eir can see into people's minds, find out things she ought not know. How much she could find out from Loki is beyond me."

Fury nodded, turning to leave. "That may be useful."

"It also may break her," he added, hoping the director heeded his words. There was no reply, only the heavy thud of leather boots on steel as Fury walked away.

* * *

She'd passed the next hour or so in her room perched on the bed. Meditation had been a useful tool throughout her lifetime, but the tension humming as electricity in her ears was too difficult to ignore. Rage was boiling under her skin without just cause. Sorrow shifted between despair and pensiveness. Mild amusement rose and fell like the ocean tide, while worry was a constant, tinny whine. The aircraft was just too  _loud_.

Sitting and meditating was not going to fix the ache in her temples. Eir left her suite and began to wander the halls, specifically avoiding the chamber that housed Loki. His storm was strong enough to devour her if she regarded him too closely with no one to ground her in place.

* * *

Bruce massaged the bridge of his nose, releasing a long-held breath. They'd been at this for hours with no sign of the Tesseract. Tony had stepped out, probably to de-stress in his own way, and left Banner alone to his work. The billionaire was a good partner to work with, although a little show-offy for the scientist's taste. Still, the peace and quiet was good for his constantly-fraying nerves.

There was no warning of her presence. No knock, no quiet 'Hello.' The door slid open and in the Asgardian woman came, looking radiant despite the casual clothes. Banner hadn't really interacted with her after Steve insisted she find something un-torn to wear, but she seemed kind enough - if not childlike. Wide, ivy eyes betrayed a sense of innocence while her soft-spoken nature made her appear smaller than she already was. If Bruce hadn't already been well aware of how old Asgardians could get, he'd have guessed her to be no older than twenty.

He'd have also probably asked her to leave if he hadn't noticed some of the bone-like stiffness easing from his shoulders when she came close. The diminutive woman held one of two mugs out to him. "You look spent in more ways than one." Her voice was perfectly relaxed.

He smirked, wondering if she knew exactly what she was talking to. "I've been working nonstop for two days. I'd call spent an understatement." He took the offered drink, smelling it. It was an earthy mix, scented mostly of leaves and roots.

She took her cup to the stool by Tony's station, making herself at home in his place. Bruce had to shake his head, internally laughing. It was much more subdued than the playboy's, but her confidence was a powerful thing.

Something within him stirred - The Other Guy - and Bruce looked into the mug. "What is this?"

"Tea," she said, grinning. The 16oz mug made her hands look small, delicate. "The label on the bag said chamomile, but I found some kava and catmint to add as well." She paused to take a draught of the drink, testing it. "I have never used bagged tea. I suppose it tastes decent enough."

"You think I need a nap?" Despite his wariness, Bruce took a sip of the drink. With the Hulk's - Other Guy's - resilience, he doubted whatever she was giving him would actually do anything. If she'd intended him harm, she was in for a surprise. The tea, however, tasted delicious, lightly sweet and floral, though not overpoweringly so like oolong or pure jasmine.

"You are angry." The simplicity of her statement, and that she was absolutely sure it was fact, took him aback. He stared up at her from his mug to find a serene smile on her face. She stole another draught. "I thought some tea and company may ease your mind."

Years he had spent covering his wrath, concealing the very idea of his other half, and she saw it without issue. Interesting, and a little unnerving. He sighed, drinking again. Had he been slipping in his control? Probably not. Hiding his anger was as natural to him as breathing. Natasha had claimed Thor and Loki to be on a level close to gods. Perhaps this willowy, kind-seeming woman was as well.

The more he drank, the more he enjoyed the tea. The flavor became more complex as his mug emptied, notes of almond and cinnamon subtly creeping into the foreground. "This doesn't taste like chamomile and mint," he said, furrowing his brow

"Perhaps my magic does change the taste a bit." She laughed, a pleasant sound that seemed to calm The Other Guy, as well as himself.

"What kind of magic?" He rested his elbow on his knee, hunching forward.

"Well," she brushed a bit of her incredibly long hair behind her. Something about her vibrant green eyes drew him in, whispered to him like an old friend. "I mend people, their bodies and souls. Although it is much more difficult than it sounds." 

"Can you do more than that?"

"In short, yes." The look he gave her was not one satisfied with that much. Eir took a deep breath, scratching her head. "Magic is fairly common among the Realms, but healing magic is one of those difficult to find, and even more difficult to whet. So, that I can do much as a healer is no small accomplishment." She leaned back, turning the sapphire blue mug in her hands. He was glad she continued to talk. The silence was filled with a gently lilting voice and assurance that there was no true pressure on him to speak at all. "Frigga, Loki and Thor's mother, taught me many things about my gift: what it was, how it affected my life and impact on others." She smirked, gazing into her glass fondly. Bruce wondered what she saw that pulled her so far away. "Freyja taught me even more: putting someone to sleep and waking them up, taking away pain or agonizing someone, how to see, to console, flight, so very much. Even more, she showed me how to refine my gift, sharpen it like a blade."

At what point did Bruce start feeling the anger slip away from him? He had relaxed for the first time in ages, it seemed. Muscles once taut with stress had eased. The headache behind his eyes faded. Even the Hulk had fallen into a shallow slumber. He drank the last of his tea and sighed. He would have accused her of manipulating him, but that would have implied she was being dishonest. "Do you do this to everyone," he asked, setting his mug on the desk. "Or just those you feel are dangerous?"

For a moment, she seemed clueless. Then she smiled and bowed her head. "Honestly, doctor? You appeared in need of respite, and I wished to give it to you. I hope you forgive my being so forward."

A chuckle passed his mouth that he hadn't felt coming. "I don't mind at all." And he didn't. Bruce's mind was clearer than glass, the fog and anger swept away like dust under a rug. It would return, he knew, but for the time being he was more than capable of continuing his work. "Thank you, actually."

Eir rose to her feet, slightly tanned skin seeming to glow in the fluorescent lighting. "My pleasure, Bruce." When she took his mug her hip brushed his leg. Calm hit him again like a wave threatening to whisk him far away, and his head reeled a bit. Eir didn't jerk back at the contact, but made it a point to put some distance between them. Bruce noticed. Quiet stretched on for a few seconds, each stuck in their own thoughts. "You are a good man, Dr. Banner," Eir broke the silence. "Both you and the Hulk."

When she said his name, the Other Guy stirred again, but not angrily so. He just took notice and settled back into his contented state.

"I cannot tell you what to do." Her words pulled his eyes up to hers. What he saw there was a mirror of himself: quelled rage, sorrow, and longing for more than he believed he deserved. "But I would suggest you not despise yourself for being what you are; it does not change."

Bruce watched as she walked out, unsure if he was glad or upset to see her go.


	4. Into the Lion's Den

"I hear you have some skills that may be useful."

"Many of my skills are useful," she danced around his unasked question yet again. They had been at this since she'd left Bruce to his thoughts. However, the noise on the ship hadn't gotten any better. Something was plucking at the mortals' nerves, and it wasn't the scientist.

"I need you to go to Loki and get him to tell us what he knows."

Eir glared at Fury from across his table. "What you  _want_  is for me to get you information that I have no way of obtaining." Which was only a partial lie. She could have found it, but she wanted to stay as far away from that part of Loki's mind as possible. She got the impression that demons lurked there that even Odin feared.

He leaned forward, putting his weight on his fingertips as he loomed over her. "You put the Hulk to sleep. Don't tell me you can't find the Tesseract."

"I showed  _Bruce_  compassion."

His voice dropped to a growl low enough that Eir's shoulders twitched in response. "I don't care what you did. It worked."

Her stomach clenched with knowledge that Fury wasn't going to let her tell him no. She could smell the sulphur and sweat of his resolve, the fire of his will that burned hotter than most others she had met. Fury was a force to be reckoned with, even if he was a mortal.

"Why are you here?"

The question caught her a bit off guard with the softness of his tone. He looked him in the eye and saw that not only was he passionate, he was desperate. Desperate men in his position could be like bulls in pottery shops. "I am here to ensure no unnecessary lives are lost, and to end whatever war is about to begin before it takes its first breath."

"If you don't get him to give up the Tesseract, people will die. Whatever he has planned, having him here isn't slowing it down. If it's a war, it's still coming."

With ivy eyes narrowed and dark lips pursed, Eir mimicked his stance. "The Tesseract is an artifact belonging to my people, Director." He smelled sour, like old milk, and it made her skin crawl. "I have a feeling people will die if you get it, as well. More will die if you do not. The lesser of two evils is still evil." She knew it, knew there was something wrong with why Fury specifically wanted to keep his hands on the artifact. The whole thing smelled wrong. "It is not meant for humans to hold."

His fist slammed down on the table, the glass shuddering under his strength. "So you want to let an angry god rule our planet? That's not gonna happen." Fury grabbed the hot thermos from the table and shoved it into her arms. "Now you're taking this to him and finding out what he knows."

She stood at his challenge and held her chin high, long red hair falling behind her like waves of flames. Even for her newness on the fortress, for her diminutive size, and unfamiliarity with Midgard, she refused to be shoved around like a child. "I will go to him and talk, Fury." Her knees weakened at the thought of it, anxiety threatening to suffocate her. Briefly her heart thumped in her ears. She wasn't going to admit it, but what he wanted her to do to Loki scared her more than death. If she set foot in his mind, there was no way of knowing what she would come across. Sven was her crutch, her tether, and without him she would could get lost in Loki's head. "There is no promise that I will obtain your information, but I will see him." With that she walked out of his office, well aware of his irked stare following her. He hated being so openly defied, but she was not one to be bullied into things she didn't believe in.

* * *

She came to him in those Midgardian clothes that did her no justice, still barefoot and radiant as any other Asgardian woman. He continued with his pacing, but his eyes remained on her like a lion watching prey. Her own eyes didn't meet his but for a flicker of a moment. They were bright and strong with determination unfamiliar to him. Or maybe it was something simpler, like aggravation. Instead of coming around to the railing as she had before, Eir waited by the door. When the hydraulic locks unlatched, she slipped through the tiniest gap before it closed again.

"Two visits in one day? I'm honored, witchling." He mocked a bow, sarcastic grin spread wide across his face. Something was in her hands, a parcel that turned her supple skin pink with heat. "Oh, and you bring me a gift? How thoughtful."

She watched him for a moment, unsure, then relaxed her face and shoulders. "Loki..."

The way she said his name ebbed the rock-like tension from his neck, and he tilted his head. There shouldn't have been anything to ease away. He was perfectly content in the cell he planned to wriggle in and out of. His eyes narrowed at her. This woman, this creature of compassion and  _pity.._. He was a god, and this woman believed him pitiful? "I am not one of your Midgardian pets, witch." He spat. "Have you already consoled the beast making play he is a man? Have you fixed the soldier whose country has fallen to pieces in his slumber?" He stalked closer to her as he spoke. "Have you mended these mortals so well that you come to pity me, now?"

His face was inches from hers, and her eyes betrayed her sadness and need, her desire to save him and the knowledge that there was nothing left of him to save. "I am a  _king._ "

Before he knew what she was doing, Eir pressed a hand to his cheek. The warmth of it tingled and spread like trails of electricity across his face and down his neck. For a second, he was certain the spells Odin bound him in had cracked, showing himself in his truest skin. His reflection in her glassy eyes told him he remained well-masked. "I do not come to pity you, my Prince, but to apologize on behalf of my King. He was wrong in his treatment of you."

She searched his face desperately for something, but her eyes were far away. Did sadness truly look like that? Her thumb rubbed his cheekbone and sparks trailed his flesh again. With each graze of her flesh against his, his heart pounded a little harder. "Just because he believed he was right did not make him so. He waved the crown before you and pulled it away, favored Thor's strength and bravado. But that is not to say you are not worthy of your birthright. I did not do much better as your friend." Just as Loki thought he'd regained his bearings, Eir stalled him out again. She took a breath. "You were born a king, Laufeyson, and raised as  _Odinson_. You've been abandoned and wounded, tortured."

The locks on the door released. Eir rose to her toes and crossed the distance between them, brushing her lips against his ear. "I am sorry you suffer." She pushed the thermos into his arms and subtly kissed his cheek. Before he could stop her, she had backed out of the door and it closed between them.

Loki watched her walk away until she disappeared around a corner; then he stared at where she had been. His face was still tingling and warm where she had touched him. He rubbed the spot slowly, coming out of his daze. It had been over a hundred fifty years since a woman had touched him like that. How dare she be so bold? Who did she think she was, talking to him as if he was some boy? He held power that rivaled Odin's! She had no right!

And he allowed it...

Why?

Fury had sent her to him; he was certain of it. He growled with the ferocity of a wild beast and threw the thermos on the ground. With a loud crack the plastic broke and broth spilled all over the floor. If the Director wanted to make things personal, Loki was more than willing to play that game.

* * *

Loki's skin was cold as ice when she touched him, surprising her before she recalled his heritage. The fact he was one of Laufey's blood did not bother her as much as it would have a century ago. Freyja had taken her to Jotunheim when the Frost Giants were suffering sickness. Aside from his predatory nature, Laufey was a decent person - in the terms of the Jotuns. He cared for his people more than his own life.

She looked into Loki's eyes and at the storm building strength within him. Eir let words flow from her mouth like a steady trickle of water; slow, soothing words laced with magic. What  _precisely_  she'd said, she couldn't recall. Just that her magic was working. Her fingers and toes began to tingle, then her arms and legs. Black was forming around the edges of her sight, quickly creeping over her vision. Soon her body was acting of its own accord, her mind venturing into the darkness that surrounded her. It was foolish that she actually came to see him, that she ventured into his mind to look at his pain. Without Sven she had no anchor to the present, and her mind could easily get lost if she wasn't absolutely careful.

As soon as the darkness swallowed her, it spat the Asgardian woman out. The world inside a person was as different between two people as fingerprints, and the lifelessness of everything within the Prince was a good sign of his own condition. She felt as though she was standing between Niflheim and Muspellsheim. Ice stretched on for miles around them, night sky devoid of any form of light, while smoking volcanoes threatened the land with fire and ash. The wind was still, but the air was nonetheless freezing. A figure stood before her, frail and broken.

What had become of him?

Olive skin stretched over little more than bone, blue pooling and retreating in uneven patches as though in time with his entirely too-slow pulse. Long, dexterous hands curled slightly, the black-blue of a bruise. Bony fingers stretched too far and tapered into ebony claws that may have once been dangerous. In the middle of his naked chest was a massive, oozing wound. Something akin to pitch dribbled down his skeleton-like torso in thick trails. Pants of indeterminable color were shredded up to the knees and revealed stick-like legs and gnarled, clawed feet.

The most heart-wrenching change was to his face. Gashes and bruises ruined his once model-perfect visage. His nose had been broken and never reset. The once steely blue-green eyes that could swallow her in one glance had turned venomous crimson and lifeless, like dried poison. Fire-red light illuminated the sunken pits that housed those eyes. He saw her, but did not respond.

_'Loki... My Loki...'_

On instinct Eir reached out for him. He remained still as her hand gripped his shoulder. Gathering what strength she could, she forced him to look at her. "My prince," she whispered to him, a hand near the wound that burned in her chest as it did in his. Her voice dripped with sadness too deep to be only hers; magic wrapped around her throat and flowed out with her words.

This gained action, his skin creaking like old leather as he tilted his head down at her.

She lost her grip, falling into those eyes. The world of fire and ice spun around her as blood throbbed in her ears. Memories flooded her head in quick succession. As soon as one came, it was gone and replaced by another: being found and warped by the Chitauri, speaking with Thanos in a cave, falling into the abyss, fighting with Thor, watching Odin lay as though dead, killing Laufey, learning that he was of Jotunheim blood, following Thor to destroy the Jotuns, sneaking a few giants into Asgard. They just kept coming.

There were other things, too, sounds of despair and pain. The scent of gore and the feeling of being coated in blood. Longing tore her one way and blind rage tugged her another. For a while, she tried to follow the longing, wondering what it was that made her chest ache, but was greeted by a wall so large, even a bilgesnipe couldn't get through. Following the blind rage showed her the rekindled war with the Jotuns, the feeling of her skin being sliced open, the scent of dust and sweat and feces.

Eir yelped as she pulled back, staring at the emaciated reflection of her old friend. Something about his expression twisted, sharp brows drawn down as he stared at her. Her heart broke a little more when she stepped back. Loki's arm may have twitched in response. "I will help you," she promised, unsure of how exactly to do so. "Believe me, Loki, I will." He remained stoic.

One breath.

Two.

By the third she was back in her own body, bones aching. She took comfort in the eyes that showed life, that searched her face. The pressure locks in the door hissed as they released behind her. "I am sorry you suffer." Eir's lips paused on his cheek. Then she pressed the thermos into his hands, backed out of the door as it slid open, and turned her back to him once it closed.

Shaking hands curled into fists. She walked away as quickly as she could until she hit the first turn. Then she began to run. Minutes felt like hours as Eir searched for a quiet place to hide. Seeing Loki, talking to him, did nothing to her it hadn't from the outside of the cell. S _earching_  him was another matter entirely. After turning down several halls, testing many locked doors, she found one that opened to a storage closet and closed it behind her. The darkness did not ward away what she saw; there was no comfort in the tile she sat on as the cold of his skin continued to bite into her bones.

Her head throbbed as though the bone was cracking beneath a hammer's might. There was so little of him left, her dear friend hardened into a murderer. Fingernails dug into her palms, drawing blood. Rage tightened her shoulders and turned her muscles to stone.

They had hurt him. They had taken what was hers and tortured him until there was nothing left.

Despair clenched her jaw closed before it made her sick. She let her head fall forward to her knees as the first sob was wrenched out of her like a nail from her foot. The dam broke and she couldn't stop the shuddering, the sobs, the wails that rattled the shelves overhead. How long had he been like that; six months, a year? Fragments of memory played behind her closed eyes. The woman's heart raced like a hare from wolves as she watched Loki hang from a spear. Breaths came in short gasps when she saw a massive shadow looking over her (Loki?) like death, a shadow that whispered promise of power. Eir flexed her hands, relishing in the sting that distracted her a little from the images that continued to plague her: a hard hand across her face, narrowly missing an arrow as it flew by, her first kill. Without thinking, in desperate need of relief, she slammed her head against the metal wall behind her.

The memories faltered, but not for long. As soon as the pain began to fade, its effects faded with it. Walking on cracked legs, broken ribs, starving, pain, loneliness, regret, fury. Again and again she banged her head into the wall, and still it held strong. But with each jarring impact, the nightmarish sights stalled. She was not made for the horrors of the Chitauri.

* * *

The door to the closet opened some time later, light cast over her bowed head. Perhaps the intruder had been searching for something, perhaps her muted, weary whimpers had attracted attention. When she finally dragged her head off her knees, she saw none other than one of Midgard's champions standing in the doorway. There was no convincing her eyes to focus on the man's face, so she stopped trying and drew in another ragged breath. "Please, do not touch me." Her voice was little more than a hoarse whisper. There was no more iron in her, no strength. So she begged for pity. "Close the door and leave me." Before the man could respond, she dropped her head back down and let the darkness take her somewhere far,  _far_  away.

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Thanks for reading! Comments, reviews, and critiques are all greatly appreciated!


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